


Fingerprints

by grayimperia



Category: Dangan Ronpa - All Media Types, New Dangan Ronpa V3: Everyone's New Semester of Killing
Genre: F/M, M/M, Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-03
Updated: 2017-09-03
Packaged: 2018-12-23 05:05:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,385
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11982762
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/grayimperia/pseuds/grayimperia
Summary: [Major V3 Spoilers]Saihara Shuuichi and those who had a hand in making him.





	Fingerprints

**Author's Note:**

> Major V3 spoilers

Shirogane picks up her pen to begin scribbling away at a clipboard while Saihara sits in front of her, shifting uncomfortably and fiddling with his tie. She says, “As you likely know, a big part of joining DanganRonpa is reinventing yourself.” Her pen snaps in its last stroke. “Quite literally. As such, what character would you offer?”

“A detective,” Saihara says too quickly. “I-I mean, I’d be happy with anything as long I can…” he fidgets vaguely with his hands, consumed by his own awkwardness. “I… I’d be fine with whatever would work for the show.”

She quirks an eyebrow. “Really? That’s a bit odd—most people are wary of completely changing themselves.”

He can’t resist snorting. “I don’t care—everyone’s already trying to change me anyway.”

Shirogane purses her lips as her pen resumes its hidden movements over her clipboard. “Just to make sure we’re on the same page, this isn’t an act of teenage rebellion or—”

“No!” he shouts, left wincing at his own voice. “I just mean—I’m tired of people talking at me, and telling me who I should be and stuff.”

“But,” she says. “You’d be alright with Team DanganRonpa telling you who you should be?”

Saihara’s throat tightens and sees his dream slipping through his fingertips. “Y-Yes.” His clothes feel too tight and his face is burning and he absolutely has no idea what to do with his hands as Shirogane drums her nails against her clipboard.

“Well,” Shirogane says like she’s speaking to a lost child and Saihara can’t help but feel like one. “Team DanganRonpa is of course delighted with every fan, however, I do need to say that just because you love the show doesn’t necessarily mean—”

“W-Wait, please!” he says again. “I-I have a character in mind—I really do! I… I want to be…”

“A detective?” she asks with a teasing smile. “There have been many detective’s in previous seasons, so,” she gives him a chance, “what would make yours special?” 

He clenches his hands into fists, and he reaches out as she lets him rattle off his dream self. The fact that she writes down something completely different is irrelevant.

-

Kaede says a lot of things to him. Of course, Saihara’s busied himself at being her shadow, and he’s too bad at conversation so she carries on one for two. She doesn’t seem to mind and pulls him along through small talk and the overgrown halls and piano lessons where her fingertips glide across the keys fast enough to make his head spin even more.

In the library, Kaede steps down from the ladder and says, “You know, you’re actually pretty reliable. I have to admit, I wasn’t too sure at first, but,” she smiles, “you sure proved me wrong. I guess I should have expected as much from a detective like you.”

Saihara tugs at his hat. “Ah, well, I already said I’m not really—”

“And I said that’s just silly—no one just solves a case by luck, and,” she waves a finger in his face, “I think you’d be a lot happier if you were proud of yourself once in awhile. In fact, I think that should be your new goal.”

“‘New goal?’” he echoes.

“Yeah!” Kaede says, and she takes his hands in hers like it’s nothing. “First we need to focus on getting everyone out of here, and then you can really start trying to be proud of yourself. Here,” she squeezes his hands and Saihara’s heart. “We can even make a promise for it, okay?”

Saihara’s left nodding in her wake and misses the touch of her hands as soon as she lets go of him.

The last day before the time limit ticks to nothing moves on and Kaede’s too bright and too sunny, and Saihara can’t help but pour his heart out to her, caught up in a dream that someone like her would care about someone like him. 

He falls in love—or something close to it—when Kaede’s hand squeezes his, and she looks like an angel bathed in the glow of the sunset light casting through the windows. She shines in his eyes, and Saihara’s blind enough that he doesn’t see the shot put leave her fingertips. 

-

Amami says, “You have a pretty face, Saihara-kun,” when he reaches out one hand, hovering it over Saihara’s bangs. “Is it alright if I…?”

Saihara nods, squeezing his hands into fists and focuses all his attention on not stuttering. He says, “Ah, um—s-sure,” and winces when he fails.

But Amami’s smile is gentle and encouraging and only laughing at him a little. The tips of his fingers are as cold as his rings when he brushes Saihara’s bangs out of his face. They threaten to sway back into place, so Amami’s hand remains pressed to his temple, holding them back. “I think your face is your best feature,” Amami says. “If you wore your hair more like this or perhaps styled it a bit more, well,” he smiles, “people would probably say you look like a playboy or a heartbreaker more than they do to me.”

Saihara’s eyes dart to the ground, looking for how to possibly respond. “I-I, um, right…”

Then Amami draws his hand back, even as the feeling of his fingers lingers against Saihara’s skin. “Sorry if I made you nervous,” he says. “But, really, you should think about it.”

Saihara fidgets, and Amami says, “Sometimes changing your style can bring new confidence, too. You know, if that’s something you want.” And his voice is too understanding and too coaxing and it makes Saihara squirm even more, “I really think it would be good for you.”

Amami takes his hands next and talks more about confidence while chastising him for biting at his nails. His words are drowned out over Saihara’s embarrassment at having his warm clammy hands caressed by Amami’s cool ones. 

He thinks he should be jealous of Amami and his cool hands and soft words and the way he says, “it would be really good for you,” as his fingertips trace feather light patterns on Saihara’s sweating palms. But the thought vanishes as soon as it crossed through his mind because Amami’s own pretty face looks so sad when he says, “Of course, maybe I don’t know what I’m talking about.” He smiles. “I don’t really know much these days, after all.”

-

Momota reaches a hand towards him through the night when Saihara collapses on the grass, breathing heavily. He takes it, and Momota pulls him up like he weighs nothing while Saihara wobbles on his feet. 

“S-Sorry,” Saihara pants. “I… I couldn’t do it again…”

“Just got to keep working at it. Here,” Momota changes his grip on Saihara’s hand to press on it with both hands. “See, your hands are still soft and shit, right? When you toughen up more, they’ll toughen up, too.”

Saihara’s left blinking. “I—was that a metaphor?”

“Nah, it’s like,” he grins. “It’s like a mind and body thing, you know? First you need the determination to become stronger and then your body will follow and shit, so,” Momota shifts his hands again so Saihara’s feeling the rough skin on his palm. “When your hands feel like mine, you’ll know you’ve made it.”

Saihara stares absently with exhaustion as his fingers brush along Momota’s. His words and smile are encouraging, and Saihara doesn’t have the heart to ask what he’s trying to make. Or be made into. 

Momota doesn’t pull his hand away even as Saihara lingers for too long with his head stuffed full of the strong person he’s supposed to become one day. Instead, Momota points to the stars with his other hand. “Another good way to become stronger is to have goals. My goal is to get to space. Think maybe you should pick something a little easier for now, but,” he smiles almost as bright as Kaede did, “I also think you should try to be the type of guy to dream big. That’d be good for you.”

Saihara thinks it’s a nice sentiment, but he can’t help echoing, “‘the type of guy…’ so more like you?”

“No, man,” Momota’s still smiling. “I mean, I’m pretty fucking awesome, but you should be,” he furrows his brow, “you should still be you but stronger and with more goals and stuff. ‘Course,” he finally retracts his hand to swing his arm around Saihara’s shoulders, “you’re my assistant until that happens.”

He seems so bright and so sure, and Saihara returns his smile even as his mind still wonders _and what happens after that?_

But Momota isn’t interested in answering that question, and Saihara isn’t interested in pushing away the one hand reaching out to him through the darkness.

-

Ouma keeps fidgeting even as Saihara winds the bandage around his finger. For all of the odd, emotional self control Saihara has come to realize the other boy holds over himself, he seems almost unable to stay still. Ouma also seems nearly incapable of staying quiet for too long and chatters away the entire time Saihara spends focused on not tapping two of his fingers together.

Letting himself zone out of Ouma’s rambling is usually inconsequential, and the words flow in a waterfall around him as he winds the bandage again and again until Ouma whines, “Saihara-chan!” he tries wiggling his fingers to little avail with the layers of gauze wrapped around them. “You didn’t do it right!”

He sighs and begins to undo his work. “Sorry, I was,” he searches for something to say other than ‘not listening,’ “distracted.”

Ouma huffs. “Saihara-chan, you don’t think I’m boring, do you?”

“No,” Saihara says. “I just…” he finishes pulling the excess bandages off and ties the last piece together. “I’m sorry.”

Ouma takes a moment to respond and seems thoroughly uninterested in removing his hand from Saihara’s grasp. “Hey, Saihara-chan,” he asks. “Can I ask you a question?”

Saihara can’t help but feel a vague sense of suspicion trail its fingers across the back of his neck. “Um, alright.”

“Why do you always apologize for being yourself?” Ouma asks plainly. 

“Uh—what?” His chest tightens.

“I just think you’re funny, Saihara-chan,” Ouma says brightly. “That’s all.” Saihara has no idea what game they’re playing, but he has the sinking feeling he’s lost somehow. Ouma traces shapes on the palm of Saihara’s hand as he says, “Since I’m a liar, people always whine about getting to see the real me, but between the two of us,” he hums, “I have to wonder who’s really hiding.”

He must recognize the shock on Saihara’s face because Ouma withdraws his hand as if Saihara was the one who just verbally slapped him. He giggles into his hands, “Geeze, Saihara-chan, you looks so serious! I was obviously lying.”

Saihara looks at him and looks down to his hands. He doesn’t want to ask _were you?_ even as it rings through his head. Instead he stutters, “I-I see.”

“But you know, Saihara-chan,” Ouma waves his freshly bandaged finger in his face. “I think you should try lying more. It’d be really good for you! In fact,” his grin turns dark, “I think you’d be a natural.”

Saihara stares at him in shock again, and Ouma stands on his tip toes to reach up to ruffle his hair. “I was lying again! Silly, Saihara-chan—you really need to learn more about lies at some point if you wanna make it anywhere in this game!”

Ouma prances away, as fast and dizzying as he came, and Saihara still feels his fingers brushed through his hair and clenched tight around his heart.

-

Saihara isn’t sure what Yumeno wants him to be. A brother or a parent or Tenko or Angie. She holds his hand as they stumble out of the rubble, leaning against him for support, anchoring him to some reality. 

Maki shoves rocks nearly twice her size out of the way with ease. Yumeno mumbles, “I could do that, too… if I had enough MP.”

Saihara smiles down at her. “It’s alright. I think Harukawa-san has it covered.”

She looks forward, holding her other hand up to shield her eyes from the sun. “Yeah… and then we’ll be out of here. Hey, Saihara,” she leans her head against his arm. “What do we do next?”

Saihara takes a deep breath. “I don’t know. But,” he squeezes her hand, “I’m sure we can figure it out together.”

Yumeno frowns and begins slowly walking forward, pulling Saihara alongside her. She chews on her lip and they move quietly with the sounds of peddles crunching under their feet and Maki tossing rubble aside eclipsing any other noise. Yumeno tugs on his hand again to get his attention. “Hey, you know all that stuff Shirogane said? You think it’s true that…” she frowns at the ground. “That we’re not real and stuff… that we’re only this way because that’s what she wanted?”

“No,” he says firmly. “I don’t think… I don’t think Shirogane-san or Team DanganRonpa or whoever are the only reason why we’re like this.” He furrows his brow. “Sorry if that doesn’t make any sense.”

Yumeno hums and pulls on his hand again. “No, I get it—you’re not the same weird shy guy you were when we first met or whatever.”

Saihara smiles wryly down at her. “I think you’ve changed a lot, too, Yumeno-san.”

Yumeno looks at the expanse of new sky stretching out before them. “Yeah,” she leans her head against his arm. “I guess.”

Saihara stares forward with her. “If you don’t mind me saying, I think Chabashira-san and Angie-san would be really proud of you.”

“I think…” she says. “I think everyone is proud of us, even if we needed a bunch of help and stuff.” She looks down to kick at a rock. “Hey, you said you’re gonna keep helping me, right—if you lied, I’ll turn you into a frog.”

Saihara keeps looking at the sky as he smiles. “I’ll help you as long as you help me. Deal?”

She squeezes his hand as she lets out a breathy sigh. “Okay, deal. But the frog thing still stands.”

He laughs. “I’ll keep that in mind.” And Maki clears the last boulder, and he moves forward.

**Author's Note:**

> And here's my Saihara birthday fic a few days early since today is my birthday (and also Teruteru's) and I figured I could co-opt it, haha. Also, if I can get a little mushy for a second, I just want to say how much I love writing fics for this fandom--I've read so many great stories and met so many great people, and I'm just really happy that I decided to stop lurking so I could experience all those things. I'm not sure if there's really any other way to express how I feel than to just say thank you to everyone!


End file.
